into the room.
“Success! Let’s go.” He closes the doors and we stand there as he
shines the light slowly around us. This room is much larger than the
office/library one, but it feels smaller. Partly because of all the statues, but
also because the ceiling in here is lower. His phone light makes all the dust
particles flicker. The walls are all paneled, and on the left wall, from
where you enter, there’s an all-stone fireplace. The floor is a tiled,
ornamental pattern that’s very faded in spots. But where it’s still intact, it
has three borders that go all the way around. All three have some sort of
braiding. Each row of braiding is a little different.
“I love this place.” Henry looks right at me. “Let’s live here.”
I’m glad he can’t see me blushing furiously in the dark.
He has no idea what he’s saying or how it’s affecting me. Confusing
me. At a time when I don’t have the luxury of confronting any of it.
Instead I go into tour guide mode. “Let me show you around.” I motion
to him for his phone. Holding on to it, I start to move among the statues.
The phone casts a light on them that makes the stone look even more eerie.
Depending on the projection and angle of the glow, the faces can look
graceful or menacing. The light between the statues makes the air seem as
if it’s shimmering.
“This one with the outstretched arms is leading the way.”
I light up the statue so that Henry can see him, especially the face. The
eyes don’t look like they are staring blankly. They actually look alive, and
if you move slowly, you can imagine them following you. I move toward
the front and shine the light on three female statues close together. “These
ladies with their books and goblets are holding my future. Now as you can
see”—I slowly spin the light all around the room—“there are a lot of guys
who seem to be in various positions of battle. These guys I call the Army.”
I cast the light toward Henry. He looks around and then looks right at
me. He’s an arm’s length away. “Why the Army? Why not . . . the Town?”
I hesitate for a minute and then, before I can stop myself, I answer,
“They’re fighting for my life.”
He doesn’t look away. Usually, this long a gaze—a direct eye-to-eye
gaze with anyone—makes me incredibly nervous. I normally can’t hold it
for more than a second or two. In this moment, this heart-stopping, palm-
sweating moment, I force myself to keep my gaze steady.